


ordinary magic

by sara_wolfe



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Minor Angst, Tad and Harriet Dowling's A+ Parenting, parental abandonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21777289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_wolfe/pseuds/sara_wolfe
Summary: Warlock's having a bad day at school, until a chance meeting changes everything.
Relationships: Adam Young/Warlock Dowling, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 436
Collections: Good Omens Holiday Swap 2019





	ordinary magic

**Author's Note:**

> Good Omens Swap gift for [humananalytica](https://humananalytica.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.
> 
> For the prompt _"Warlock meets the Them and/or reunites with his childhood caretakers during University. Maybe the bookshop becomes a study space, and maybe Crowley enrolls to earn his 24th degree just to keep an eye on things (and to keep up with the times)."_

“You’re looking for Price’s ‘History of the Modern World’, correct?” The school librarian - her name tag read Ethel - glanced up briefly from her computer in time to catch Warlock’s confirming nod, and then she turned her attention back to her screen.

“Seventh edition,” Warlock told her. “I couldn’t find any copies on the shelf, but I’m hoping that maybe someone turned in a copy that just hasn’t made it back out on the floor, yet.” 

He flashed Ethel his most charming smile, just in case that kind of thing worked here, and resisted the urge to drum his fingers anxiously against the counter top. His mother hated his nervous habits, said they were embarrassing to her. Then, after a second, he started drumming his fingers, anyway. His mother wasn’t here to criticize him; she’d made it more than clear she didn’t care what he did or didn’t do-

“There’s a three-week hold on the book you’re looking for,” Ethel finally replied, and Warlock felt the smile slip off his face.

“But the first assignment’s due tonight!”

“Sorry, hon,” Ethel said, sympathetically. “Have you tried the bookstore?”

Warlock had, in fact, tried the bookstore on campus, but they’d wanted over two hundred dollars for that one book alone, and he had half a dozen textbooks that he needed. His crappy coffee shop job certainly wasn’t going to be enough to pay for the books, and he had more important things, like rent and food, to use the rest of his loans on. And he couldn’t very well ask his parents for the money, not after the way he’d ~~gotten kicked out~~ left home. 

“Well, how long can I check these other books out for?” he asked, instead, pushing the stack of textbooks that he had managed to find across the desk toward Ethel. At least he’d be able to make progress on his other classes, and maybe he could throw himself on the mercy of his World History teacher while he sweet-talked a classmate into loaning him the book for a couple of nights, or something.

Ethel took the stack of books from him and scanned each one into her computer, her frown deepening with every beep. “I’ve got some bad news for you, kid,” she said, when she was finally finished. 

Warlock groaned. “They can’t all be on hold,” he protested. 

“I’m afraid so,” Ethel told him. “Books for the gen ed classes are always in high demand.” She pulled the books further back on her side of the circulation desk, like she was afraid that Warlock was going to try and grab the stack and make a run for it. “Do you want me to put you on the hold list?”

Warlock - who had, in fact, been considering grabbing the books and making a run for it - shook his head. There wasn’t any point, really. By the time he finally got the books, he’d be so far behind in his classes that he’d never be able to catch up. And then he’d fail his first term, and he’d have to drop out of school, and his parents would be right, he was nothing more than a failure and a disappointment-

“Hon, you all right?” Ethel’s voice yanked him out of his thoughts, and Warlock stumbled away from the desk. 

“Fine,” he stammered out, unable to meet her eyes. “I’m fine - I gotta go-”

He made it all the way outside before the rest of his growing panic attack seized him, and he collapsed against the side of the building and buried his face in his shaking hands. His father’s voice was ringing in his ears - stupid, worthless, good for nothing - and he felt hot tears slip down his cheeks. He didn’t know what he was even doing here, he wasn’t good enough for college and he didn’t know who he thought he was fooling-

“Hey, dude, are you okay?”

Gulping in a breath fast enough to make himself dizzy, Warlock jerked back and knocked his head painfully against the brick wall, startling the guy standing in front of him. Pain shot through his head and stinging tears sprang to his eyes when he carefully prodded at the brand-new knot on the back of his head. 

“That looks like it hurts,” the guy went on, as Warlock checked to make sure he wasn’t bleeding. “Are you okay?”

Warlock finally looked up at the guy to see the most unfairly-handsome guy he’d ever seen in his life. Blond hair, chiseled cheekbones, and electric blue eyes that were giving him a look positively dripping with sympathy. Warlock found himself stunned into speechlessness.

“Are you okay?” the guy prompted, again, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder. Warlock shuddered at the warmth of his hand.

“They don’t have my books,” he finally said. 

“That’s it?” the guy asked, sounding shocked, like he’d been expecting something more world-shattering. Well, Warlock had world-shattering, but he wasn’t about to dump his problems on a stranger. “Well, I can fix that,” the guy told him. He slid his hand further down Warlock’s back, making him shiver as he tugged him away from the wall. “C’mon, I know the perfect place.”

“You know, my mother said I should never go anywhere with strangers,” Warlock joked, weakly, as he followed the guy away from the library. 

The guy spun around to face him, a huge smile on his face. “Adam Young,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand for Warlock to shake. “Now I’m not a stranger.”

“I’m Warlock Dowling,” Warlock replied. 

“Let’s go, Warlock Dowling,” Adam said, picking up his pace as he led the way to a car in the parking lot. “We’re gonna get you those textbooks.”

* * *

As they pulled to a stop, Warlock vowed that this would be the first and last time he ever drove anywhere with Adam. He practically had to peel his fingers away from the door handle that he was clutching in a death grip, and he staggered out onto the sidewalk as he climbed out of the car, on legs that felt like jelly. 

“Who the hell taught you how to drive?” he demanded, leaning heavily on the car while he waited for his legs to stop shaking so much. 

Adam just grinned at him, clearly unrepentant. “If you think I drive fast, you should see my godfather,” he replied. “C’mon, it’s just down the street.”

“What’s just down the street?” Warlock demanded, pushing himself away from the car and stumbling unsteadily down the sidewalk after Adam. 

“The bookstore of your very dreams,” Adam called back, spinning around to walk backwards while he talked to Warlock. “I’m serious; any book you could ever want is here, even all of your textbooks for school. You’ll never go back to the library, again.”

“Well, that’s not hard, considering I have no idea where we are right now,” Warlock snarked. 

He’d tried to pay attention while Adam had been driving, but the other boy drove so fast that it was hard to keep track of the streets they’d gone down. He wasn’t even sure where they were, other than somewhere in London.

“We’re in Soho,” Adam told him. “And we’re right here.” So saying, he gestured extravagantly at a door with a faded, peeling sign on the glass. 

“A.Z. Fell and Co,” Warlock read. “Who’s A.Z. Fell?”

“Best bookseller in all of London,” Adam said, pulling the door open and escorting him inside with a gallant wave of his hand. “Although, seller is probably the wrong word - book collector, maybe?”

“If this guy doesn’t sell books, how I am supposed to get the ones I need?” Warlock started, but then he found himself rendered absolutely speechless as he took in the inside of the bookshop. “Oh my god.”

“I know, right?” Adam said, happily, as he stopped beside Warlock to take in the massive stacks of books that surrounded them. “Isn’t this place awesome?” Without waiting for an answer, he wandered off somewhere into the stacks, almost immediately disappearing from view. “Aziraphale, are you here?”

Warlock heard a faint voice calling out in reply, although he couldn’t make out the actual words. He debated trying to follow Adam further into the bookstore but quickly thought better of the idea when he realized just how easy it would be to get lost inside the chaos of the bookshelves. And he didn’t dare go poking around by himself for the very same reason. Instead he stayed by the door, reasoning that Adam would come back to him once he’d found whoever he was looking for. And hopefully his textbooks.

Closing his eyes as he leaned against the wall, Warlock took several slow, deep breaths as he tried to calm the anxieties that were threatening to rise up again. Adam had promised him that he’d find his textbooks. He wasn’t going to fail his classes, everything was going to be just fine-

“So, this is the kid I was telling you about.” Adam’s bright voice broke through his reverie, and Warlock opened his eyes to see him coming back toward him, talking to an older man with white hair and a faded tweed suit. He looked vaguely familiar, but Warlock couldn’t place where he knew him from. 

The man following them, though-

Tall and gangly, with dark red hair and cheekbones sharp enough to cut. Dark clothes and sunglasses to match, even in the darkened interior of the bookshop. Warlock blinked a couple times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, and then-

“Nanny Ashtoreth?”

His ex-nanny stopped in his tracks, and even though Warlock couldn’t see his eyes, he swore Nanny was squinting at him in dawning realization. He offered up a sheepish grin.

“Warlock,” Nanny said, and even his voice was different - gone was the Scottish brogue that had sung Warlock so many lullabies - but there was no mistaking the warmth in that voice. “My little destroyer of worlds.”

“Not so little now,” Warlock pointed out, and then the rest of his words were lost in the hug Nanny wrapped him up in, his arms folding around Warlock in an almost-crushing grip. Warlock found himself clinging just as tightly, holding onto one of the few people who’d loved him unconditionally as a kid. “I’ve missed you so much,” he choked out, blinking back the tears that suddenly blurred his vision. 

Nanny made a noise that might have been agreement, but Warlock wasn’t too bothered by not getting an actual reply; the way Nanny held onto him was more than answer enough. 

When Warlock finally let go, he tried to surreptitiously wipe away his tears, but the handkerchief that appeared in Nanny’s hand like magic gave him away. He dried his eyes with the cloth and then folded it up and stuck in his pocket. He didn’t know if he was going to see Nanny again after he left the bookshop, but he wasn’t giving up that handkerchief for anything.

Beside Adam, the white-haired man was beaming at him. “Warlock, you’ve grown so much,” he said, and Warlock looked at him curiously while he wracked his brain. 

“Brother Francis?” he finally asked, incredulously, getting an exuberant nod in response. “Oh my god, you guys really did run off to get married!”

Silence fell over the bookshop, and then Nanny burst into startled laughter while Brother Francis turned bright pink. “Is that what everyone was saying when we left?” Nanny asked. “I mean, me, sure, but that’s awfully scandalous of you, Angel.”

“Wait a minute, you two have been married all along?” Adam demanded at the same time, looking accusingly between the older men.

“Why don’t the two of you come in the back for some tea?” Brother Francis suggested, as Nanny turned around and flipped the sign on the door to ‘closed’. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

* * *

Brother Francis - no, his real name was Aziraphale and he was an actual real-life angel with wings and a halo - Aziraphale poured Warlock yet another cup of tea before settling back into the couch cushions opposite Warlock and Adam. Beside him, Nanny - aka Crowley, aka a literal fucking demon from the deepest depths of Hell - had pulled off his sunglasses and was watching him with unblinking yellow eyes. Both of them were silent as they waited for some kind of reaction from Warlock.

“You know, this actually explains a hell of a lot of the weird stuff that happened when I was kid,” Warlock finally said. “Like Mom’s favorite rosebushes that came back to life overnight, or Brother Snail and Sister Slug, or the death lullabies-”

“Wait, wait, wait, death lullabies?” Adam broke into a positively delighted grin. “What’s this about death lullabies?”

“Nanny used to sing me to sleep with these songs about death, pain, and the end of the world,” Warlock told him, and Adam burst into hastily-muffled laughter. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes as he looked at Crowley, “but I thought you were trying not to turn him into the Antichrist?”

“Well, yes, that was the plan,” Aziraphale said, a sheepish look on his face, “but I didn’t say that we were any good at it.”

“Yeah, I did kind of do all the heavy lifting during the Apocalypse,” Adam teased him. To Warlock, he added, “They did offer emotional support, though, so there is that.”

“Brat,” Crowley shot back, but there was genuine affection in his voice. 

Warlock was almost jealous for a moment, but then Crowley turned that fond look on him and he was swamped with an emotion that had him abruptly blinking back tears. He swiped at his eyes again, hoping that no one saw, but the knowing look in Crowley’s eyes said otherwise. 

“Hey, didn’t Adam say you were here for some textbooks?” Crowley asked, suddenly. Standing, he reached out and pulled Warlock to his feet before he could say anything, steering him toward the office door with a hand on his back. “We’ll be out raiding your books, Angel. You and Adam feel free to stay back here and have fun by yourselves.”

“Why’s Crowley want Warlock all to himself?” Warlock heard as the door shut behind them, but then Crowley was pulling him away from the office and he didn’t hear anything else. 

“You looked like you needed to get away for a minute,” Crowley said, as they wandered among the quiet bookshelves. “I imagine it’s a bit much, everything we dumped on you just now-”

“It’s not that,” Warlock hastened to reassure him, before Crowley could get the wrong idea. “It’s just-” He trailed off, unsure how to put everything he was feeling into words.

“Just what, darling?” Crowley asked, and that gentle voice and his old childhood nickname had fresh tears springing to his eyes. 

“It’s that,” he said, sniffling a little. “I haven’t seen you since I was ten, over a decade ago, and you still-” The words got caught in his throat as he got choked up, and he rubbed at his stinging eyes. “It feels like you still love me,” he said, softly, plaintively. “Like maybe you never stopped, even when you weren’t there.”

“I never did,” Crowley told him, with a blunt, simple honesty that still just about took the floor out from under Warlock’s feet. “Aziraphale, either,” Crowley went on. “No matter how old you get, Warlock, you’re still our little boy.”

Warlock swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. “My parents kicked me out,” he blurted out. “After you guys left, things were okay for a few years, but then I guess I got too old, too stubborn, and not cute enough to make up for it. Things always were easier for all of us when you and Aziraphale were there as a buffer, and everything just kind of went to Hell after that. My parents didn’t like my music, my clothes, my politics - and then Dad caught me kissing one of the boys from my math class, and that was the end of that. He told me to pack a bag and get the hell out of his house. And Mom didn’t even try to defend me. That was five years ago, when I was sixteen, and I haven’t talked to them since.”

“I didn’t know,” Crowley started, but Warlock cut him off before he could start blaming himself, somehow. 

“This isn’t your fault,” he said, firmly, looking Crowley square in the eye to make sure he got the message across. “It’s not my fault either,” he added, echoing the words told to him by several of the counselors at the campus health center. “The only people I blame are my parents.” 

Okay, so that last one was still only mostly true, but he was getting to the point where the good days outnumbered the bad ones, where he could look in the mirror and not hate himself for what he saw. 

“Still, though,” Crowley replied, “I could always go have a conversation with your parents. Maybe eat them.”

“Nanny!” Warlock cried, a smile creeping onto his face. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cried from behind them, and Crowley spun around, a guilty look on his face. He immediately tried to protest his innocence while Warlock watched, amused. 

“Why don’t we go look for your books?” Adam said, appearing silent beside Warlock as they watched Crowley and Aziraphale bicker. “Leave those two lovebirds to their argument.” Without waiting for an answer, he wrapped his hand around Warlock’s arm and tugged him further into the stacks. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Warlock said, as he followed Adam over to Aziraphale’s collection of mint-condition textbooks. Shelves upon shelves of books - the choices seemed almost overwhelming, but Adam seemed to know exactly what he was looking for. “This certainly wasn’t how I expected this day to end, but I’m happy it did. More than happy,” he admitted, after a minute. 

Up on the ladder, Adam was suddenly, suspiciously silent. “I may have had an ulterior motive for bringing you here,” he said, and Warlock could see pink tinging his cheeks. “I, um, I was hoping to impress you with the bookshop, and then maybe you’d say yes when I asked you out on a date.”

“Oh.” Warlock could honestly say that he hadn’t been expecting that. He’d just assumed that Adam was trying to be helpful. “You want to go on a date with me?”

“Only if you want to,” Adam said, hastily, sounding slightly panicked. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do-”

“What if I want to go on a date with you, too?” Warlock interrupted him.

Silence again, and then Adam jumped down from the ladder, landing on the floor. Warlock had a moment to wonder if he was just that naturally graceful or if it was some kind of weird Antichrist superpower, but he lost that train of thought when he realized just how close Adam was standing. Up close, his eyes were even more beautiful than before. 

“You really do want to go on a date with me?” Adam asked, softly, and Warlock nodded. 

“Yeah,” he replied, and from behind them was the sound of soft cheering. Warlock could feel his cheeks heat up. “Nanny!”

“I’m not spying!” Crowley called back, immediately. “Blame this one on Aziraphale.”

“I couldn’t help it,” Aziraphale said. “I love young love. Especially when it’s you two.”

“What do you say we go on that date, now?” Adam suggested. “We can go to that new coffee shop across from campus and I can help you with your history paper. And we can get away from all the prying eyes,” he added pointedly, shooting Aziraphale a look. Aziraphale didn’t even try to look apologetic.

“I think that sounds great,” Warlock told him. “I’ll meet you out at the car?”

Adam nodded, taking Warlock’s books over his protests and heading for the door. Warlock turned back around to find Aziraphale still watching him, with Crowley this time hanging over his shoulder and very blatantly spying, no matter what he tried to claim. Warlock didn’t bother hiding his smile as he went over to them.

“Did you have something to do with Adam finding me today?” he asked, curiously. “You guys and your magic?”

“Wasn’t us,” Crowley assured him. “Some things are just completely coincidental.”

“A rather wonderful coincidence,” Aziraphale went on. “Warlock, I can’t believe we found you again.”

“Can I come back?” Warlock asked. “Could I see you again in the future?”

“If you don’t come back soon,” Crowley told him, a hint of his old brogue creeping into his voice, “we’ll be coming down to that school of yours and embarrassing you in front of all your friends.”

“That is something human parents do, isn’t it?” Aziraphale asked, a delighted smile on his face. “Oh, that sounds like fun!”

“I could always go back to school for another doctorate,” Crowley added, thoughtfully. “What are you majoring in, Warlock?”

“I love you both,” Warlock told them, “but please don’t. I’m begging you.”

“Come to dinner every weekend and we won’t have to,” Crowley countered, immediately. 

“Deal. Unless Adam and I are having date night.” Warlock twisted around to look at Adam outside, who waved at him from where he was leaning against the hood of his car, looking like some kind of teen heartthrob. “You’re sure you didn’t have anything to do with this? Or with me coming back to you?”

“That was all the two of you,” Crowley told him.

“Sometimes,” Aziraphale added, “sometimes there’s nothing more powerful than the ordinary magic you humans are capable of.”


End file.
